


Winter

by LondonGypsy



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gig in the mountains in winter, and sharing a cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

**Author's Note:**

> A co-work with a friend back in the days.   
> Yeah, i totally suck at summaries so you have to read to know.

It was already dawning as Christian finally arrived at the resort up in the mountains. He was freezing and he got the feeling that he would never get warm again. The sun settled down and painted sky and snow in an orange and red glow. He stopped for a second and enjoyed the beauty of this sunset.  
He smiled faintly before he trudged further towards the entrance. He pushed the heavy wooden door open and almost ran into Eric, who exhaled loudly as he saw him.  
“Thank god, you're finally here. We thought we have to send Steve out there alone. Where have you been so long?”  
Christian shrugged.  
“Sorry, man, not my fault; the streets were closed due to the snow and we had to take a detour,” he explained, looking around the lobby.  
“Well, looks like I have to kick some asses later. But now, you have a gig to do. Steve's already waiting, hurry up, Kane, go.”  
Eric pushed Christian along the hallway into an empty room where his band mate, and his best friend, was tuning his guitar. As he stumbled through the door Steve looked up and sighed relieved.  
“Finally. I thought you got lost in the winter out there,” he grinned, standing up and wrapped the guitar-strap around his shoulder.  
“I've already tuned yours,” he added as Christian peeled himself out of the thick coat, grabbing his own instrument.  
“Oh, thanks,” he said and shot a thankful look over to the other man, “my fingers are frozen, don’t know if I even can play yet. Can we switch the set list? Just for two songs or so? Till my fingers have some feeling again?”  
He rubbed his hands, trying to warm them up a little.  
“Sure,” Steve nodded, pulling out a piece of paper, scribbling some notes on it. He held it up for Christian to see.  
“Okay like that?”  
Christian threw a look at the paper.  
“Yeah, that's better,” he said, still kneading his fingers.  
Steve glanced to the door, pushed his guitar on his back and walked over.  
“C'mere,” he said quietly, taking Christian's hands in his. They were warm, almost hot against his own cold skin. Steve only held them between his own, covering them with his palms, his thumbs stroking slightly over the red flesh.  
“Hmmm, that feels good,” Christian sighed, closing his eyes.  
“You need gloves, Kane,” Steve murdered as he pressed his hands tighter over Christian's fingers, rubbing them carefully.  
“I have some.”  
Steve huffed out a laugh.  
“Yeah, fingerless ones, kinda pointless, don’t you think.”  
“How could I know that it was gonna be this fucking cold up here,” Christian grumbled, opening his eyes and looking at him.  
“Well, let me think...cause it's winter?” Steve teased, arching an eyebrow at him.  
Christian let out a snort and took one step closer to the other man.  
Steve smiled, leaning forward and his breath ghosted warm over Christian cheeks.  
“Really?” Christian's voice dropped a bit as he tilted his head, catching Steve’s gaze.  
“Really,” Steve said, lids half closed, watching him through dark lashes.  
A loud holler outside made them both jump; seconds later as Eric rumbled into the room both men were standing as far away from each other as possible.  
“You guys ready,” Eric asked.  
“Yep,” came the unison answer and both walked for the door.  
“Then let's go, let’s show them how KANE rocks,” Eric grinned and held the door open for them.

Two hours later Christian and Steve stumbled back in their backstage area, high on adrenaline and – let’s face it, alcohol - laughing and chatting.  
“Fuck, that was one hell of a gig,” Christian grinned, putting his guitar in its case and fell on a chair.  
Steve sat on the other on, still holding his instrument, plucking at the strings.  
“Yeah, who could have known that they would go insane up here?”  
“Let's pack the shit together, I wanna be home before the game starts tomorrow,” Steve said, closing the lid of his own case, putting them next to the door.  
“Yeah, that’s gonna be one hell of a drive back; the streets are a bit...” Christian couldn’t finish because Eric burst into the room, hands twisting and red in the face.  
“I'm so sorry, guys, there's no way we can leave today. The streets are closed and our driver can’t even come close.”  
“What?” Christian jumped to his feet.  
Steve just stared at him, before he asked:  
“And now?”  
“Well,” Eric said, ducking his head a little, “the manager has two vacant cabins left; we don’t have to stay in the lobby...” He lets the words linger in the air, before he continued.  
“If you two gonna share one, I’d take the other, and tomorrow we try to get back to town.”  
Christian threw a brief look over to Steve who wore an empty expression on his face.  
“And if not?” he asked, facing Eric.  
“Well, than each gets one and I see how comfy the couch in the lobby is...”  
Steve laughed at the sheepish face of their manager.  
“Nah, man, Kane and I gonna share, right, dude?”  
Christian's eyes clouded a second before he nodded.  
“Sure, we've done that all the time, won’t be a problem.”  
Eric let out a relieved sigh.  
“I’m so sorry, guys, really, but I can’t influence the weather. I'm just hoping, by tomorrow it’s gonna be better.”  
“Well, than show us, I'm tired and beat and I'd kill for some food,” Christian said, grabbing his stuff and walking to the door.  
Eric nodded, holding the door open for both men and babbled all the way back to the lobby. There he stopped shortly at the reception desk and then handed them the key.  
“Here, it’s the last cabin at the end of the alley,” he waved his hand in the general direction.  
“Hmpf,” Steve grumbled, closing his jacket and pulling his scarf closer around his neck.  
“I arranged dinner for you, there's a little kitchen and they put some food in it as well. Oh, and this.” He handed Steve a bottle Jack Daniels.  
Steve grinned, taking it and pushed in the deep pockets of his jacket.  
“I'm really sorry, guys, if I could change it, I would.” Eric shrugged.  
“It's okay, it's not your fault,” Christian said and opened the door to the outside.  
“If you need anything else, call me or the room service.” Eric called after them as they stepped into the cold night.  
Wordlessly they walked in the direction Eric had shown them. It was a clear night, stars were blinking on the black sky and a full moon appeared over the edge of the mountains.  
“Nice,” Steve mumbled as he shifted his bag, paying attention to where to set his feet; the ground was snowy and the moonlight threw false shadows on it.  
“Yeah,” came the soft answer next to him.  
As they arrived at their cabin and Christian had opened it, they rushed in and closed the door; Steve switched the lights on.  
It was warm in it and both just realized how cold it was outside. Christian made his way to the small kitchen while Steve let his eyes roam over the room.  
The cabin was cozy and roomy: two big windows opened the view out to the width of the mountains. Two king-sized beds were on the right wall; on the left side was the small kitchen, only an oven, a fridge and a small counter and in the middle of the room, two small armchairs at a coffee table. But what caught Steve’s attention was the huge open fireplace in between the both windows. Someone had lighted the fire; it was burning hot and high, filling the room with the smell of smoke and wood.  
Steve sighed happily; here he could stay. His gaze wandered over to Christian who had opened the fridge, making appreciative sounds.  
“Eric must have a really bad conscious, we have everything here. Wanna cook? Or shall we order something from room-service?”  
“Cooking.” Steve answered quickly; he loved nothing more to wind down after a gig than the soothing routine of cooking. He sat his stuff next to the door, left jacket and scarf there too and rolled his sleeves up.  
“What do we have here?” he wanted to know, gently pushing Christian aside and peeked into the fridge.

After a little back and forth they decided on a simple steak with some salad and baked potatoes.  
They worked quietly; each knowing what to do. It was calm in the cabin, only the hissing of the meat in the pan and the chopping of the knife interrupted the peaceful silence. After a while Steve realized that he was humming. He glanced over to Christian who sat at the counter, watching him closely, knife dangling loosely in his fingers.  
“You always do that, you know,” Christian answered his unspoken question, “the humming.”  
“I do?” Steve asked, flipping the steaks in the pan and turning the gas off; they needed only a few more minutes.  
“Hmmm,” Christian buzzed, throwing the last ingredients in a bowl.  
“Ohhh...” Steve didn’t know what to say to that; he had never realized it. His mind was always filled with music, louder, lower, slow or fast, depending on his mood. He just hadn’t known that it came out.  
“I like that.” Barely heard over the sound of the sizzling steaks.  
Steve looked up, not sure if he had heard that correctly.  
“Huh?”  
Christian stood up, came around the counter and laid the knife in the sink. He leaned against it, arms crossed, watching Steve how he set two plates on the counter.  
“Your humming,” he said silently, “so I always know in which mood you are. You're humming your own songs mostly when you're sad or angry, but when you're humming KANE songs I know you're happy.”  
Steve looked up, a fork forgotten in his hand.  
“Really?”  
Christian bend forward, heat permeating from his body as he took the cutlery out of Steve’s hands.  
“Yeah and I really like it,” he drawled slowly, stroking his index finger lightly over Steve’s forearm.  
Steve stood there, staring at him, mouth slightly open, watching Christian how he filled their plates and put them on the counter.  
“What?” he asked as he turned, finding Steve motionless looking at him.  
“I didn’t know.” Steve could manage after a few deep breaths.  
“What didn’t you know?” Christian cocked his head, waiting for him to answer.  
“That...that you...that I...,” he hemmed before he continued, “that I associate KANE with happiness.”  
There, he had said it, not knowing, how true it was, before the words had left his mouth.  
Christian's eyes narrowed, the steel blue darkened as he took one step closer, cornering Steve against the counter.  
“That so?” he mumbled low, brushing his leg slightly against Steve’s.  
Steve swallowed hard, eyes fixated on the other man's face.  
“Well, not necessarily KANE,” Steve breathed, “more...you.”  
Christian leaned closer and Steve could smell his aftershave.  
“Me?” Christian raised an eyebrow, putting his hands left and right of Steve on the counter.  
“Yeah, you.” Steve couldn’t breathe properly, his heart beat too fast and his sight persisted of two big blue eyes captivating him.  
“So I make you happy?” Christian whispered, moving an inch closer.  
Steve could only nod; he didn’t trust his brain anymore to form any kind of words.  
Soft lips brushed over his own, teeth grazing over his lower lip and a tongue flickered quickly against his skin.  
He sighed deeply, his eyes falling close and...  
“The steaks get cold.” Christian pulled back, a soft smile crinkling the corner of his mouth.  
“Fuck the steaks,” Steve huffed, grasping Christian by his shirt and dragged him back.  
Even with closed eyes he found the other man's mouth immediately and a tiny moan echoed in his ears. His hands fisted in the fabric, not willing to let him go.  
He opened his lips, running his tongue over Christian’s still closed lips, licking slowly over the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance. He felt Christian smile but he didn’t give him what he wanted. Instead he leaned back, his hands cupping Steve's face gently as he searched his eyes. Steve’s groaned frustrated and rolled his head from one side to the other.  
“Let's eat,” Christian said, still smiling as his thumb caressed Steve’s cheekbones so cautious as if he was fragile, “maybe there's gonna be dessert.”  
Steve didn’t censor the deep moan that slipped past his lips as Christian kissed him lightly.  
“You're a bastard, Kane, you know that?!” Steve sighed as he released him.  
Christian bestowed him with a breathtaking smile and Steve’s knees got weak at the sight.  
“Yeah, get that every time,” he teased lightly, sliding his fingers through Steve’s hair before he let go and sat on the stool at the counter.

They ate in silence, sharing a bottle of wine Steve's found in the cupboard. The glances they exchanged were made to set the room on fire. Steve felt every single nerve in his body tingling. Every time he tore his eyes away to catch his breath his gaze automatically slid back on the man sitting next to him.  
Christian ate slowly, teasing Steve with every movement he made. And Steve? Just watched him, he couldn’t help himself.  
Eventually both had finished and Christian stood up, taking their empty plates to the sink, grabbing two shot glasses instead. He walked past Steve, brushing his free hand over his shoulder and Steve's breath hitched. His eyes followed Christian as he walked over to the fireplace. He set the glasses on the table, came back, rumored through Steve’s jacket until he found the Jack and went back to the fire. He slowly sat down on the floor, almost like in slow motion, crossing his legs elegantly, waiting.  
Steve rose, and as he walked over his gaze never left the man sitting in front of the fireplace, a shadow, surrounded by flames. He let out a harsh breath as he sat down himself.  
Christian smiled at him, slow and lazy and poured them both a drink. He raised his glass; the whiskey shimmered amber and gold in the dimmed light.  
“What are we drinking to?” His voice was low and steady, sending a long hot shiver down Steve’s spine and raised every hair on his arms.  
“To us?” He knew it sounded like a question, but sometimes he just couldn’t believe it.  
The smile he got rewarded with had him lucky that he was sitting already; otherwise it would have kicked his legs away.  
He swallowed, raised his own glass with an unsteady hand.  
“To us then,” Christian drawled and clinked his glass against Steve’s before he downed the content. Steve froze, glass halfway in the air, as he saw the long line of Christian's neck, bend back, screaming to be kissed, licked, bitten. He couldn’t hold back anymore, it was simply too much for him. He sat the glass hard on the table, not caring if it fell and reached out, tracing a finger over the warm skin, amazed by the softness.  
He sighed, deep and longing. Christian lowered his head and caught his eyes, holding his gaze, drawing him close.  
Suddenly there was a loud bang and the lights went out. The same moment the room got dark, Steve laid flat in his back, Christian's lips hard and hot on his own. He wrapped his arms around the firm body on top of him, pulling closer, holding on for dear life.  
Loud moans filled the air as Christian's tongue demanded entrance and Steve just opened up for him. His tongue dove deep in, searching and finding Steve’s and the explosion of dozen tastes and feelings blew Steve’s mind blank. He wasn’t aware of the noises he made; he only felt the hot flesh on his own. The sensation of Christian against his body, in his mouth, on his skin was almost too much to bear. Their tongues were playing, nudging against each other, twirling around, leaving but always coming back, defining his whole being on this very moment, on this kiss.  
He was panting against Christian's mouth, feeling the hasty up and down of his chest, wanting to melt into the other man. His hands slid up and down over his back, one hand tangling in that thick mess of hair, the other one crawled under the shirts. Steve’s fingertips ached as he touched bare skin, warm and a little bit damp and his head fell hard on the carpet covered floor.  
“Oh, god, yeah...”  
Neither of them could have said, who said it, but they didn’t care, nothing else mattered.  
Hands, pulling on too much clothes, hastily removing them until – finally – skin touched naked skin.  
Fingertips, skimming over every inch of bare flesh, feeling every muscle, discovering the body of one another as if it was the first time.  
Lips and teeth, biting, licking, kissing like they were starving, only leaving for a few gasps before they were back together, tongues dancing silently.  
Bodies, arching into touches that are too much and never enough, holding close and tighter and never getting tired of the feelings they evoke.  
Moans and growls, hoarse and desperate, the only language they speak, the only sounds filling the room, the sweetest music they ever made.  
Boundaries were falling, bodies melting against each other, two became one, movements, slow and painfully gentle, getting harder, faster, breaths became pants, fingers digging deep in slippery flesh.  
Every sense, wide awake, opening for the other, welcoming him, holding on, hard and relentless.  
A word, breathed, whispered against bruised burning lips, one syllable, barely to hear  
“Love...”  
Visions got blurry, hazy, a hot white flash, too bright to bare, eyes squeezed shut, a whimper, a low, rough cry and then nothing. Everything. Too much and not enough at all.  
Shaking limbs, tangled together, glistening with sweat in the quiet light of the flames, goose bumps rising wherever cool air meets hot skin.  
Breath slowly evened out, lips finding each other easily, wordless promises, reassuring and strong.  
A cheek on bare chest, still holding on, never wanting to leave and knowing eventually he must.  
Hands pulling him close, wrapping warmth around him, covering him with cool linen.  
Eyes sliding close, sheer willpower forcing them back open, heavy lids, too heavy but not wanting to waste precious time with meaningless unconsciousness.   
Lips brushing against sensitive flesh, fingers tracing soft circles over slick skin, a murmur, fainting in the dark.  
“Sleep, Stevie, sleep...”  
Eyes slid close, irrevocable this time, silent vibrations against his cheek and a strong, steady heartbeat lulling him away. Hummed sounds the one thing carrying him, almost knowing what they mean but always just a fingertip away. One last sigh and he let go, drifting into sleep.

Steve woke up, drifting slowly back into reality. The first thing he realized that he wasn’t on the floor anymore and he lifted his head. He laid in one of the beds, blanket thoroughly draped over him and he blinked. It was still dark in the room, although he had the feeling the morning wasn’t far; his inner clock never failed. His gaze fell in Christian, laying there next to him, propped on two pillows, watching him with clouded eyes. A small smile lingered as he saw that Steve was awake.  
Steve opened his mouth but Christian shook his head, dark, tousled curls framing his face. Steve frowned but Christian only smiled, sadness in his eyes. He opened his arms and Steve crawled up, cuddling into his side, head on the other man's shoulder. Christian pressed a kiss on his forehead, looping his arms around him, pulling him close. His eyes are on something far away as he looked out of the window. Steve shifted a little so that he could see the sky and the mountains outside their room.  
The sky got a lighter color now, not really day yet, but the deep black has turned into a dark grey. Almost morning.  
And Steve immediately knew. He knew that this was and would be the only night they have. It would never be like this again. His hands roamed around and Christian's fingers are in his, tangling them together and holding him. He looked up, meeting his eyes, drowning in the blue, drinking in every little detail of his face.  
They needed no words, everything was in their eyes; wordlessly they talked to each other, confessing their devotion, their love, their passion.  
One last kiss, deep and slow, full of desperation but also full of hope. Steve shifted, kissing a trail down the other mans jaw, the neck and his chest. At his side he stops, throwing a look up, locking eyes with Christian as he lowered his head, kissing the sensitive skin over his right hip. As he sucks the soft flesh in his mouth Christian hissed but he held the eye-contact. Steve sucks harder, wanting the mark to stay longer. Finally he let go, tracing the almost black bruise with soothing fingers.  
“Mine,” he whispered, heat burning urgently in his tone. He slid back in Christian’s waiting arms, settling against him, seizing those last moments.  
Together they watched as the sun climbed up, blinding on the snow, knowing they will remember this forever.


End file.
